


295 - Very Superstitious

by storiesaboutvan



Category: Catfish and the Bottlemen (Band)
Genre: F/M, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2018-10-07
Packaged: 2019-07-27 09:57:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16216655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storiesaboutvan/pseuds/storiesaboutvan
Summary: A fic about: Superstitious Van McCann.





	295 - Very Superstitious

Van picked you up on your very first date. Maybe he would outgrow all those gendered social norms he viewed as charming and tradition. Maybe not. But that night, dressed in a brand new outfit and pacing around nervously waiting for seven pm to come, you were thankful to have a bit of a script to go by. You knew he’d pick you up. Kiss your burning cheek. He’d open the car door for you and pay for dinner. He’d be mostly predictable, and in that predictability would be safety.

When Van knocked on the front door of your three-room rented cottage, it was a small sound. It almost felt like he hesitated to knock at all. Was he nervous? Was he regretting asking you out? The quiet knock made you nervous, and your stomach started to twist in knots as you walked to the door and open it. Then, there was the dreaded unpredicted.

Van was standing back from the door, hidden partly in shadows. You had entirely expected him to be bouncing up and down on the step like a puppy waiting to be let in. He had been filled with such energy and life when you met at a friend’s party a few days prior.

He must have seen your smile fade quickly; he took a step forward into the light. He was as brilliantly beautiful as you remembered him being. Even through the twilight you could see the brightness of his blue eyes.

“Alright, love?” he asked, softness on his face.

“Yeah… Are- Are you okay?” you asked back.

Van’s expression broke into a proper grin. He nodded. “Course, love! Takin’ you out on a fancy date. You should see where I’m takin’ us for dinner,” he said excitedly, stepping forward again and moving to hug you.

Standing on the first step to your front porch, you were much taller than Van. He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling your body into his. You wrapped yours around his neck, letting your weight fall on him.

“You just looked kinda… I don’t know… something… when I opened the door,” you said, the sound of your speech muffled a little as you spoke into Van’s soft hair. He’d washed it for you. It definitely wasn’t washed at the party.

He broke the hug to smile up at you. “Well… Ya live at number thirteen… Guess I’ve got that Irish superstitious blood.”

For a second you were confused. The image of Van in your mind that you’d been building since you met him didn’t really reconcile all that well with superstition. 

You turned around and looked at the silver numbers on your front door. Looking back at Van, you asked, “Do you think that means I’m bad luck?”

“Nah… Don’t think you possibly could be, love. Maybe it’s just like… a warning or something, you know?”

“A warning about what?”

“Dunno…” Van answered with a shrug. “Alright, Miss. You ready then? Fancy dinner awaits!”

…

“Y/N! Look! Come ‘ere! Found somethin’ for ya!”

You stepped with such bounce that it was perilously close to being skipping. You were too happy to move any other way though. And as you approached Van, the smile on his face told you that you were right to feel everything was perfect.

“What?” you asked, coming to a stop.

Van hadn’t been too keen on the idea of a cute forest picnic at first. He wasn’t exactly the nature-loving type. “Can see it all on Google, can’t I?” he argued, lighting a smoke and grinning around the cigarette. Yet, he seemed to be enjoying himself. The woods were too beautiful not to love, you thought. It was too calm of an environment to do anything other than settle your soul. 

Van could totally acknowledge that, but the day was mostly going so well for him because of how Goddamn happy you were. While you were spinning around in wildflowers, Van was falling in love with you.

“Look here! There’s a whole patch of them!” Van said, speaking quietly so as not to disturb the peace. He was crouched down near an old, decaying fallen tree trunk. You crouched next to him and followed his outstretched hand.

Never in your life had you seen a four-leaf-clover. Not once. Yet, Van had found an entire patch of them. They were bright green. Crisp and fresh.

“Is it bad luck to pick them?” you asked Van, your resident expert on such matters.

“Nah. Think we can take just one… Here, we’ll take the luckiest one.”

Van carefully brushed his hand through the patch, locating the biggest clover he could find. Gently, he picked it from the very base of its stem then handed it to you. Instinctively, you smelt it like a flower. Van smiled, watching you.

“For you…” you whispered. Van didn’t move as you reached out and threaded the clover behind his ear. “So pretty,”

“So lucky.”

…

“LARRY!” Van yelled in a high pitch scream.

You could hear it from all the way outside, as you got your bag from the backseat of your car. The yelling did not subside as you made your way inside. Neither of the guys were in the lounge… kitchen… hallway… or Van’s bedroom. 

Following the sound, you found them in the bathroom. At first, neither of them realised you were there. They were busy fighting over logic and magic.

“You’ve got to be fuckin’ kidding me! What you want me to do, huh? Cast a fuckin’ spell to take it back?” Larry said, laughing.

“Maybe! I don’t know! Mate… Do you not even care?!”

“I’d care if it were real…”

“Course it’s bloody real! Why would people keep sayin’ it if it weren’t?” Van argued.

Looking around the room, you saw what was out of place. The mirror on one of the cabinets was smashed, the shards all over the sink and vanity.

“Mate, that don’t even make sense…”

“Ah, guys?” you interrupted before they could continue.

“Love,”

“Maybe we just clean it up, huh? Getting cut by a broken mirror would be pretty ironic,” you suggested.

Larry nodded and walked by you, off to find something to put the shards in.

You turned to Van and smiled. “Sorry about the bad luck,”

“He broke it; not me. 'Sides….” He walked to you and pulled you into a hug. “Got you here now. You’re my good luck charm,”

“Gross.”

…

The open window didn’t do all that much to help with the paint fumes. Van said he couldn’t really smell it. He wasn’t getting the headache you were. As a result of his lucky anatomy, he got to do most of the painting. You sat in the doorway, watching him roll off-white onto the walls.

“You’re doing a very good job,” you informed him.

He smiled down at you from the scaffolding he was perched on. “Yeah? Am I doin’ the whole room then? Hiring me officially?”

“Yeah. Might as well. S'not like you’ve got a lot going on,” you joked.

Van laughed. He complained whenever there wasn’t something to do, so there was always something to do. When he wasn’t on tour, he was finding other ways to help the band or he was with you. More and more, he was with you.

“What’s me pay?”

“What do ya want?”

“Ahhh…. I’ll think about it and get back to you, love,” he said with a grin.

The room was almost finished by five pm. Van was entirely proud of himself, like he was whenever he did anything particularly domestic with you. He liked to play husband as much as he could. It was all practice for when he’d really be one. Your one. He was very sure of that.

“I’ll make you a tea, yeah?” you asked, standing up from your doorway spot.

“Yeah, love. Just got this last bit to go.”

While you made the tea, Van sang loudly to the music playing throughout the house. He always sounded so fucking bad singing along to whatever. You wondered if he did it on purpose.

When the tea was brewed and the milk was added, you made your way back down the hallway and into the freshly painted room. You were two or three steps away from Van when he started to yell.

“STOP! Love! What do ya think you’re doing?!”

Genuinely confused, you just looked at him. “Uh… Tea?”

“Do you not see this?!”

The scaffolding he was using had been relocated to the middle of the room… The middle of the room that you were about to walk through.

“Van, it’s not a ladder… I can walk under it…”

“It’s like, a modern ladder though, innit? What if it’s the same? We don’t know. Just walk around it. It’s just another step. Come on,”

“Oh my god, you’re ridiculous,” you said, breathing out. Handing Van his tea, you began to sip at yours and shake your head at him. “It’s not the same,”

“But it could be…”

…

Van had given you a key to his place. It had been burning a hole in your pocket for quite a while before you finally gave in and used it. It was a miserable day, freezing and pissing down with rain. You were closer to his than yours, and just wanted to be warm.

Letting yourself in, you dropped your umbrella and bag at the door before kicking off your shoes and retreating into the warmth of the house. By the time Van got home, you were cuddled up in bed with Little Mary, watching horror movies on your laptop.

“Do you want the good news or the bad news?” Van asked, causing you to yelp and jump out of your skin. You’d not heard him get home at all.

Your scream caused Mary to leave your side and run to Van. It caused Van to laugh at you.

“You scared the fuck out of me!” you yelled at him, throwing a pillow across the room. It didn’t even get close to reaching him.

“Wasn’t tryin’ to. Made noise and everything… Sorry… But do you want the good or bad news?” he repeated.

Pausing the film, you sat up and looked at him, trying to guess the news before hearing it. “I don’t know… Bad…”

“Bad news is you’re fucked. Bad luck for life,”

“Aw, Christ. What did I do now? Step on sidewalk crack? Look at a bird the wrong way?”

“Umbrella up inside actually,” Van said in a weirdly smug voice given the subject matter. He started to get undressed.

“Okay, well, first of all, any bad luck I get is yours too, since we spend so much time together,”

“Fair point,” Van commented, climbing into bed in only track pants and underwear. He had always been a skin-on-skin for warmth kind of guy.

“Secondly, Mr Superstition… it’s if you put an umbrella up inside… which I didn’t. It was already up when I came in. So it don’t count.”

Van thought for a moment. Upon finding your conclusions to be sound, he cuddled around you. Reaching out, he clicked the spacebar on the laptop to start the movie again. His face screwed up in distaste.

“Can we watch somethin’ else? What 'bout Big Fish?”

…

The first time Van met your family was over a Sunday roast dinner. It was the perfect setting for him to shine, and as expected he wooed everyone in the house with his strange speech and spectacular stories. It helped that he loved food so much too.

“Honestly, this is the best roast I’ve ever had,” he said for the millionth time.

“Would you like another piece, honey?”

You had to hold in laughter as everyone used their best manners, trying to make Van love them as much as they loved him.

Van nodded enthusiastically. “Thank you!” He looked over at you with a huge grin on his face.

“Oh! Well, aren’t you the lucky one! You’ve got the wishbone!”

Van’s plate was put back in front of him and the wishbone was sitting to the side. You suspected that it was entirely rigged. The wishbone was usually pulled from the meat before it was cooked. Sitting on the china plate, the cleanliness of the bone told the same tale. Van was none-the-wiser though. He’d probably figure it out later when he looked back on the night and replayed it as a bedtime story.

“Y/N. Would ya do me the honours?” Van asked, turning to you as he picked up the wishbone and held it by one side.

Nodding, you held the other and followed Van’s counting. One… Two… Three! Crack. Van had won.

“Lucky! What do you wish for?” he was asked.

Looking over at you, he winked.

…

In the dream, there was a crocodile. She was your pet. No. No, not a pet. A friend. Croc was your friend and you walked around with her everywhere. Then there was a girl that you went to high school with… She had a lollypop. Croc bit her arm off. Blood everywhere. Music started to play and you turned towards the stage. Was that Yungblud? He had backup dancers… Fairies? Where did that wolf come from?

Then reality, your head being moved too fast to not disturb your sleep.

“Van!” you mumbled. “Was sleepin’,” you complained, rearranging yourself in the God-awful tour bus seat. When Van didn’t respond, you looked up at him.

You had been asleep in his lap, your head on his chest as he reclined next to you. He’d breathed in too heavily though, his chest puffing up too much. The movement tore you from your nonsense dreams and into the land of the living.

Van’s cheeks were full of air. He looked like a puffer fish on high alert.

“What are you doing?” you asked.

He kept hold of his breath but pointed out the bus window. You watched a cemetery speed by, the angels weeping against a stormy sky backdrop.

…

Both you and Van had been so excited to move in together. It had been an absolute dream. It was easy to hit the next milestone and on the way to the animal shelter, you bounced happily in the front seat of Van’s car.

“Think Mary would like a little dog or a big dog?”

“Van, I don’t think Mary’s gonna like anybody that takes attention away from her,” you answered.

Van laughed. “Yeah. She’s a princess,”

“Your princess. You raised her to be sooky,”

“Yeah,” he agreed again. His voice sounded like he took your statement as a compliment.

The happiness you felt began to fade away inside the shelter. There were so many animals that needed homes, so many that had been hurt or abandoned. It was overwhelming. Your skin started to feel hot. Your nose tingled.

“Alright, love,” Van whispered, pulling you close to him. He wrapped an arm around you. “We get to help 'em,”

“One. Only one,” you replied sadly

“For now, yeah… One day, I’ll buy ya a farm and we can have a zillion animals,”

“Promise?” you asked, looking at him.

Van kissed the tip of your nose and nodded. “Promise. Now, come on. Who’s talkin’ to ya? What about this little guy?”

It was clear that Van hadn’t entertained the thought of getting any animal other than a dog. You’d grown up with cats though, so it shouldn’t have been a surprise to him when he found you in the kitty room.

“Know ya said Mary would hate anybody we brought home… but really think she’d hate a cat,”

“It wouldn’t be direct competition,” you said. “Like… She’d still be the best and only dog,”

“Yeah… That’s true…”

Van strolled around the room while you stuck your fingers through cage doors, wriggling your fingers at kittens.

“Hey, man,” you heard Van whisper. “What’s your name? What’s it say here?” Turning around, you watched Van in front of a cage. You couldn’t see into it from where you were. “Luther? Like the cop on the telly, huh? Bit of a badass name… How’d you get here, Luth?”

Moving slowly, you came to stand beside Van as he spoke to a cat. Luther very gingerly walked the perimeter of his cage, coming to inspect Van. Van put his hand flat against the cage. Luther smelled Van’s hand, then began to purr loudly.

“Think he likes you,” you said.

“He’s got good taste then, don’t he?” Van said back, looking at you briefly to smirk. 

He really liked the cat.

“I just… I’ve got to ask… You do know this is a black cat, right? Like… he’s literally fully black. Look! Even his toe beans!”

“Yeah… But maybe it’s like… It would be bad luck not to look after him, right?” Van said. The boy was absolutely notorious for picking and choosing things to believe in and be consistent about. It was one of his more infuriating traits.

“Alright. So… Little Mary and Luther it is.”

…

It was still dark when Van’s car pulled up out the front of your family home. You were awake when he messaged, asking you to meet him out on the dawn-lit street. When you went out, nightgown wrapped tightly around you, Van was leaning against his car, cigarette hanging from between his lips.

Like it was innate, you didn’t bother coming to a stand-still. Instead you walked right into his arms and let him bundle you up.

“You okay?” you asked him.

“Uh-huh. Couse I am. Just… nervous…”

“Nervous? You don’t get nervous,”

“Never done anything so important though,” Van replied, his voice lowered to just a whisper. “Just needed to hold you for a second,”

“I’ll give you a minute.”

You gave him nearly ten. Silently, Van rocked you side to side while you almost fell asleep against his chest. The cigarette he was smoking burnt to nothing and the sun began to rise over the houses of the city.

When birds started to sing, Van helped you stand up straight.

“Sorry for waking you,” he said.

“S'alright. I was up,”

“I'll… see you soon, yeah? I love you,”

“Love you too.”

You kissed Van softly, gently, let him feel how much you loved him. 

He watched you cross the road then stop and turn back to him. 

“Van? You do know it’s bad luck to see the bride on the wedding day?”

“Yeah… think that’s all just nonsense superstition though, ain’t it?”


End file.
